PARTICLES to WAVES

 In a conversation recently, I brought up my sadness over the upcoming change in this country’s leadership. This isn’t about politics; more, it’s about atmosphere. The woman I was talking with shares that sadness, and we discussed how to handle it. She suggested that instead of being sorrowful for the way the impending leader has represented himself, we do all we can to keep sharing and spreading kindness. This kind of thinking provides a small amount of peace. Rather than feeling stuck in the middle of an unpleasant situation, I can focus on what I can control. I can keep my atmosphere educated and uplifted.

So, I’ve been reading poems. The following poem gives me a breath of optimism that being hopeful right now is reasonable. I need to think this way. So, I’ll carry on and I’ll create, marvel, share, dream, try, and try harder, and make and meet goals. I’ll mess up. I’ll work harder to not mess up. I’ll stay concerned and hurt for anyone who suffers. I’ll empathize and help and look out for others. I’ll celebrate others’ happiness, and, sometimes, I will simply be happy. The work of change is rough. It feels more like a mess of vines than an effortless opening. But it is appealing to continue reaching for the space where the poem leaves us, a place that is vibrant, granular, and as relevant now as ever.

THE DOOR

-Jane Hirshfield

A note waterfalls steadily

through us,

just below hearing.

Or this early light

streaming through dusty glass:

what enters, enters like that,

unstoppable gift.

And yet there is also the other,

the breath-space held between any call

and its answer ‒

in the querying

first scuff of footstep,

the wood owls’ repeating,

the two-counting heart:

A little sabbath,

minnow whose brightness silvers past time.

The rest-note,

unwritten,

hinged between worlds,

that precedes change and allows it.